


When I Can't Lie Anymore

by northpeach



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Friendship, Gen, HP: EWE, Harry Potter is Skull DeMort, Harry is Skull, Hurt/Comfort, Scars
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-11
Updated: 2016-02-11
Packaged: 2018-05-19 18:48:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5977369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/northpeach/pseuds/northpeach
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Skull wonders sometimes if one day, he will slip and forget to lie. It doesn't quite happen like that, but it does take just one night. One night that loosens his tongue and Skull can't lie anymore. Well, he can, but the selective blindness of his fellow ex-Arcobaleno vanished the instant he spoke the words, "I was a soldier." He carries his scars, hidden under the leather and the make-up. From Voldemort, Malfoy Manor and the battles he's fought and survived. He was fine with being weak. The weak are never called to lead, to protect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When I Can't Lie Anymore

When the day came that Verde finally discovered a safe growth serum, five and a half (plus one Sky) now Curse-free Arcobaleno gathered in the house that they had lived in with Luce, back in the day. Although it took several weeks for their adult forms to be returned to them, the mad scientist of the Lightening succeeded. Said Lightening also informed the Mist, Sun, Storm, Cloud, both Rains and the child Sky that they would have to remain in close quarters for at least a month before their Flames were stabilized.

Apparently forcing your body to shrink to a child's size and then back to an adult's was a bit much for said bodies.

Who would have guessed?

And so, they all unanimously decided to celebrate, by going to a bar in the nearest town and drink as much alcohol as they could tolerate and randomly speak of things they had done before they became the Strongest Seven. Their unanimous decision also included keeping Yuni away from said alcohol.

Unfortunately, they were only looking for a bit of fun so they naturally decided to have Skull go first. After all, he was only a stuntman with a baby-face so his life story would probably be pretty mild and something to laugh at. And normally it would have been since Skull, with his pure Flames, couldn't get drunk very easily. So Skull, forgetting that now he was an adult again, also forgot that his magical core would be fully formed and unless he deliberately sought out his Flames, his magic would be his primary healing source.

Magicals get drunk very quickly due to the sugar in most alcohol.

"Oi Skull! The hell're you even doin' before Checkerface got a hold of you, kora?"

Instantly, the youth's face crumbled and he began to sob. Colonello facepalmed and turning to Reborn leveled an 'I told you so' look to the hitman.

"I said before that the lackey would be one of those lightweight drunks that sobs at everything, didn't I, kora?!"

Lal, somewhat curious to Skull's answer, swatted him upside the head.

The purple-haired man began to speak, but what his spoke of, was the farthest thing from the other's imaginations.

"I was a soldier," he said, his words barely slurring.

The noise instantly vanished as the former Arcobaleno registered what their _weak, cowardly_ Cloud just said.

Paying no mind to the expressions on their faces, Skull continued.

"It was just my luck, ya know? The whole thing. Like a fairy tale. I was n'ver a child, just worker to do 'is job. 'Course, it wasn't Dumbledore's fault my relative hated my existence. I didn't even know anything save my cupboard and chores until I turned eleven and 'agrid came for me. Didn't know I was famous for surviving that mad man while he went about slaughtering everyone else, m'parents included."

With a gusty sigh, Skull knocked back another drink, eyes firmly fixed on the polished wood of the table. He did not look at his companions who were too silent. Then again, he was too drunk to really care at the moment.

"I was eleven when I first killed someone. They all told me it was self-defense, told me I did a good job. He would have returned the mad man to start the war again. 'Mione cried and Ron told me he would never let that 'appen to me again. I wished I could believe them then," he whispered almost to himself.

Pulling himself up, he stared at the ceiling, still resolvedly ignoring the eyes he could feel burning into him.

"Twelve wasn't so bad, even if Forge and Gred had to kidnap me from those people's house. Bars on my windows and meals from the cat-flap. If it weren't for their mother, I'd starved that time for sure. The Founder's pet running around trying kill everyone, and everyone convinced I was evil incarnate. I killed that snake though. Thought I was gonna die that time, just about did but Fawkes got their in time. Killed it with Godric Griffindor's sword I did. And he wanted to put me in Slytherin," Skull snorted at the thought of the old Sorting Hat.

A frown crossed his face as he realized something of his twelfth year.

"Come to think of it, that was the year I finally learned I couldn't trust anyone save for 'Mione 'n' Ron, the twins…" he mused aloud.

A bitter smile spread across his face at the thought of the next year.

"Thirteen is why I discovered the traitor that sold m'parents out was living pretty while m'godfather was sitting in the worst prison in Britain, totally innocent and wondering when he'll ever get a trail. 'Course, that wasn't Dumbledore's fault either 'cause even if he did have the power to grant him his legal right, m'godfather was from a bad family and he was just a Black after all. Remus was 'is friend and he was m'dad's too so he was something of an uncle. He believed in Sirius."

He laughed, hollow and almost broken.

"Four times I spent time with my godfather, he was my only living family member left til he up and died too. Jus' 'cause I was a child and adults don't believe children, ya know? Come to think of it, that was the year I had to organize that club so we could learn how to defend ourselves from Voldemort 'cause he came back last year."

At these words, Skull crumbled into himself and he started crying.

"I told them all I was only fourteen, not seventeen and they all said of course he put his name up! I didn't! But they forced me to compete anyways! And I fought and got burned and they took Ron and 'Mione to the bottom of the lake and I got Cedric killed!"

If Skull had been sober, he would have most likely stayed in that mindset and probably spent much longer thinking of Cedric Diggory, but as he was drunk he rambled on into the next part of his life.

"They all lead a smear campaign on me how I was going dark, gonna be the next Voldemort and I started dreaming and that old Toad made us carve 'I must not tell lies' on the back of m'hand 'cause I told everyone he was back! At least Forge and Gred went out with a bang, I gave them my winnings so they could start a joke shop. It was their dream, ya know? The others I trained, those that believed me, and then I had dreams, dreams of the dying and the torture and the blood and I was a _mess._ And then they were gonna go to the ministry, those Death Eaters, so we went after them and drove'em off, but Sirius!"

Yanking a hand across his tear-stained cheeks, he reached for another shot and downed that before he continued, his voice hoarse.

"Snape killed Dumbledore so Draco didn't have to, he swore to protect 'im and Voldemort got 'is 'ands on 'im. Marked 'im, ya know? So 'e and became the 'eadmaster. We, Ron, 'Mione and I, went on the run some time after that…just after Bill and Fleur's wedding and George lost an ear and Mad-Eye's death. Remus and Tonks got married and the ministry was attacked and there went the Minister. It was just Death Eaters in power then."

Skull paused then, relaxing his body and easing his feet to the floor as he finally leveled his gaze towards the former Arcobaleno as they stared at him in something akin to horror and shock. The slur in his voice faded and his tone was soft, yet hard as steel.

"Traitors, they called us. They plastered my picture everywhere, put a price on my head. Just my head. Ron was worried about his family, but he stuck by me. And 'Mione, 'Mione was always the cleverest. She sent her parents away and had already packed just in case we needed to leave. We ran from the Snatchers for a year you know. Got caught and tortured a couple times, but we always managed to escape. It wasn't until they caught us and dragged us to Draco, his father and Bellatrix that we finally had to stop."

All emotion vanished from the one they had all called weak and spineless, he looked as if he was carved from stone as he continued in a flat voice.

"They threw us in the dungeon and we stayed there, listening to 'Mione's screams for what seemed like hours. And then, when they stopped, they brought in Ron. He was screaming. Screaming as they dragged him away, screaming as he saw what they did to 'Mione. He was in love with her, everyone knew it," he paused and pride touched his face, "He stopped screaming when they started in him though. Didn't make a sound."

Skull lifted his stare to lock eyes with Reborn, the Greatest Hitman in the World.

"When they brought me in, I thought they were dead. I don't really remember what happened but I'm pretty sure I killed all the Snatchers until a friend came and took us away. I was taken to Bill and Fleur's house. Remus came by and told me he had a son. They named him Teddy and asked if I could be the godfather. I said 'yes'."

Holding the Italian's eyes for a moment longer, he turned away and lowered his voice.

"Our friend died in the escape so we buried him. We did that a lot, bury our friends. And then we three and a banker set about to rob a bank that had never been successfully robbed in all its centuries of existence. We pulled that off, children barely even adults and we returned to our school. My people, those I had trained had set up a resistance. The rest of my friends lead it and saved as many of the younger children as they could, waiting until I could get there."

This time, Skull didn't bother with the glass, he grabbed the bottle and took a large swig.

"It was war and they all lined up under their general. I think I gave a speech, I can't quite remember. Little toy solider boys, all prepared to defend their home. And then _he_ came. And Fred died. Remus and Tonks too. Lavender and Colin. Then to ass insult to injury, that blasted mad man and he offered a choice."

Skull fell silent.

The others still hadn't spoken a word and had barely moved. It was Yuni, who had been quietly sequestered at the head of the table that spoke up.

"What happened next, Skull?"

The Cloud threw back his head and laughed, the edge of hysteria clear hear in it's ringing tones.

"What do ya think happened? I stepped over the bodies of my friends and faces I knew and people I had promised and I walked straight to my death. He lied, of course, but it didn't matter in the end. Turns out I was bloody immortal."

He shot a glare at Verde.

"You didn't believe me when I first told you, I saw it in your eyes. You thought I was just some kid with pure Flames playing a game, when really the only reason I was into stunts was that I hoped a fall would kill me one day. I am called the Immortal Skull for a damn reason ya know. Although that part about Death hating me isn't really true. You can't hate someone you can't see or find and who delivered a death cheater to you."

"And what happened after that?"

The Cloud shot a broken, bitter smile with an edge of amusement at the girl.

"I woke up and killed him."

Another large gulp of alcohol and he continued with, "And then everyone who had collectively hailed me as their Saviour, targeted me as the next coming of the Dark Lord. They devoted their entire front page to denouncing me as a liar and an attention seeking brat only to find out I was right, before Voldemort took over the ministry and demanded they print I was a traitor. Which they did, but after he was actually dead, and Britain hailed me again as their Saviour they jumped right back on my bandwagon. Until about a month later when I tried to commit suicide, to which the rest of my living friends took offence to. So I divided my time and became a stuntman."

With a flourish, Skull stood, astonishingly steady for someone who had consumed as much alcohol as he had in so little time, and set the empty bottle on the table.

"And then I was cursed into the body of an infant and was physically incapable of taking care of my godson so I gave him back to his grandmother. I used letters to keep in touch with my other friends, but Teddy always knew my secret. When they married and had kids, I would drop by and listen as they told stories about me to their children. I always left gifts and appeared if they truly needed me, but I tried to keep out of sight. And here I am, the Curse broken and still looking as I did all those years ago."

He gave a soft laugh, a fragile smile stretching his cheeks.

"Teddy grew up and married Bill's daughter. Draco's son is in love with 'Mione's daughter and they're still telling stories about me while I try and bring myself to write them to ask for a visit."

Skull laughed, hollow, bitter and broken in a way even Reborn could not understand. With a flourish, he bowed, his features twisting into a sneer.

"And that is the life story of Skull DeMort, the Lackey, weakling and spineless coward, the weakest of the Arcobaleno."

He laughed again, but as he turned to leave, and the former Arcobaleno surged to their feet in protest, Skull's knees gave out and he crumbled to the ground. He moaned lowly in his throat and managed to mumble a few words to whoever was holding him.

"At least I won't remember this in the morning."

…

When Harry James Potter woke in the very late afternoon, he resisted the urge to put a bullet in his head and wait for his really high healing rate to take care of it. Thankfully, he remembered having said high healing rate and with a beautiful combination of magic and Flames, reduced his headache to an acceptable pain level. His mouth was as dry as ashes so he carefully hurled himself out of bed, ignoring the way the Earth was spinning and wretched open his door.

He didn't notice, as he stumbled through the dining room trying to get to the kitchen, as every eye turned towards him and conversation died. His brain was incapable of thinking of anything save his need for water. Unfortunately, that included navigating the kitchen. Just as he passed the table, a hand shot out, holding a hot mug of coffee.

Unused to being offered anything, as he was usually the one doing the offering, he could only stare stupidly at the wonderful smelling liquid in the cup. He blinked. And blinked again.

Yup, still there.

With exaggerated movements, he reached out to cradle his cold fingers against the warmth and sipped slowly at heaven. To his still fuzzy brain, when a chair suddenly presented itself he only blinked once before sitting down.

And thus Skull DeMort sat in blissful silence at the table, drinking coffee, unconcerned by how chilly it seemed and unbothered by the many pairs of eyes glued to all the scars on display on his shirtless chest. He was also unconcerned at the detention words on his hands, the _Avada Kadavra_ scar on his heart, the whip lashes visible on his shoulders and the burn marks dotting his arms.

And he gave zero damns to the Deathly Hallow mark that was branded high on his chest, right smack dab in the middle.

It took on thirty seconds to realize he wasn't wearing his gloves. His shirt and jacket were missing too. He frowned, staring at pale skin, the sight not really computing with his brain.

"Skull?"

At the, dare he say, _tentative_ use of his name from Lal Mirch, he slowly looked up, a voice screaming in his head he wasn't wearing his armor and they _were seeing all his scars!_

He stared blankly at Lal who was looking at him with…with _concern?_ And then, aided by the rejuvenating powers of coffee, he finally made the connections.

He got drunk last night.

They had undressed him and seen his scars.

Scars he had made more visible by walking about of his room _shirtless._

The thought came, followed closely by horror.

_They know my secrets._

 

* * *

Reborn is many things. Anyone catching a glimpse of him could tell you that.

It is in the way he walks, talks, dresses and even the way his black eyes glitter, a look of _knowing_ deep within them. Reborn encourages the rumors he can read minds. He can't, not in the way they think, but he can see their thoughts painted so clearly on their faces and in their eyes.

Some say he is arrogant, he claims confidence, but doesn't deny the accusation. He is a dark perfection, with soft and hard lines, a dangerous and sensual air about him. Reborn is arrogant, confident, _dangerous,_ but while he prides himself on his skills, there is one he thinks triumphs over the rest.

It is his ability to _see._ To _notice_ and _remember._

Learning languages or complicated equations to how he handles his weapons, from the bullets to his Flames, Reborn knows _exactly_ what he can do and what others around him can do. He's learned to read people as easy as a book and he is confident in that ability of his.

So when Skull's face crumpled into sorrow and tears began to gather in his eyes, Reborn was fully prepared for the run-away-to-the-circus-for-some-unimportant-reason story. But when Lal prompts him to answer and the Cloud says,

" _I was a soldier,"_

Reborn's world came to an abrupt halt. His easy, relaxed smirk slides right off his face and he snaps to attention, something clenching painfully in his gut. He knows the stuntman isn't lying, _can't be lying,_ because Reborn sees lies just as easily as he sees people and everything in him is screaming, _why didn't I see this?_

He can now. He sees the shadows in his eyes, sees it in the line of his shoulders and a suddenly thought struck him.

Never has any of the Arcobaleno _ever_ see any of Skull's skin, save for his make-up covered face.

_He hides his scars._

Horror is dawning in the hitman and he stills, every thing in him shutting down to focus on Skull's words and see the proof in so many things he _missed for thirty-three damn years._

And Skull ignores him _(Reborn-sempai!),_ ignores them all and talks about his early child- ( _he hasn't had a childhood)_ his early life, about his _cupboard_ , and Reborn can see it all now.

Never once did Skull ever shield away from his kicks, his punches, anything except occasionally what he threw or shot at him. That clenching in his gut, just got worse because he _knows soldiers_ and a part of his brain start cataloging information he has previously ignored.

_Survivor's guilt. Disassociation with reality. Post-Traumatic Stress Syndrome. Depression._

That was how Skull could keep up an act way too thorough and long-lasting as he played the idiot. He felt he shouldn't have lived past the end of the war. He wasn't associating what is happening around him to what is happening _to_ him. That was why Skull had never touched a gun, never picked up a knife and always fought hand-to-hand or with his Flames or with his animal companion.

And Skull just continued to speak of lies and subtle manipulations, of death and _torture_ as if it _was nothing_. Of running to _survive from a hostile government_ , being asked to be a child's godfather after he grew up with zero parental love or guidance, basically raising himself, then raising others to _survive the war._ As a teenager, barely able to be called an adult.

And then he said the mad man's name.

_Voldemort._

Reborn almost shattered the table from the force of his hand clenching, but he forced himself to be still.

 _Voldemort. As in the half-way immortal_ _ **wizard**_ _that all of Great Britain was too scared to_ _ **say his name**_ _much less_ _ **fight him.**_

And still he spoke of the castle, what he called home falling down and the bodies of children he had trained.

Reborn, if he were a lesser mortal, would have wept when he realized just exactly what the boy he had once though of as his lackey was speaking of. What he was _saying._

Skull DeMort was telling them that he was Harry Potter.

_Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, Man-Who-Conquered._

As in survived _the killing curse._

_Twice._

Reborn was not as informed into the magical world as Viper was, but everyone who was anyone knew of the story of Harry James Potter. When he had disappeared all those years ago, one Luna Lovegood had published the only Harry Potter article that provided answers. Answers of Horcruxes and basilisks, Voldemort _with schoolchildren_ , _a teacher_ _**torturing**_ said schoolchildren under the guise of detention. Lovegood had pointed out all those who called Potter a lair, an attention seeking brat. Those that demonized him and believed everything written in _The Daily Prophet_ and then went on to describe how Harry Potter walked into the Forbidden Forest on the ground of Hogwarts and faced in death in order to spare the lives of those that remained behind to fight with him.

Magical Britain was _horrified._

Magical Every-Where-Else? Really, really _angry_.

Hell, even Reborn had been angry because the Ministry of Magic in Britain had _forced_ _children_ to fight a war for their country while said country was calling them traitors and liars and attempting to kill them.

When Skull speaks of a godson, he remembers the day he told their Cloud, _his_ Cloud that he would be a horrible parent. Told him he should have been glad he had no one. He doesn't flinch and he doesn't cringe. But, oh, he _wants_ to. To show a bit of weakness to the b- to the man spilling his secrets.

So when the Cloud stood up and turned around and said,

_"And that is the life story of Skull DeMort, the Lackey, weakling and spineless coward, the weakest of the Arcobaleno,"_

The Sun felt as if he'd been punched in the gut.

Despite his stillness, the lack of emotions on his face and the fact that he was sitting the farthest away, Reborn was the first one to reach Skull when he collapsed to the ground.

* * *

" _I was a soldier."_

Fon blinked. And quickly glanced down to his hot cup of soothing tea still steaming in his hand. He blinked again, his attention snapping back to the purple-haired youth's as the words began to make sense to him again.

_"I was eleven when I first killed someone. They all told me it was self-defense, told me I did a good job."_

Fon remembers I-Pin, on the day he found her. Alone and covered in blood. Hadn't she said something like that too? Something about people telling her it was a good thing she had killed someone?

He felt sick.

With a delicate ' _click'_ , Fon set down his teacup and ignored the way every word Skull added to his already growing horror story, his Flames started leaping and swirling and demanding release.

_"…he was my only living family member left til he up and died too. Jus' 'cause I was a child and adults don't believe children, ya know?"_

Fon remembers. He remembers very well in the Triads when adults didn't believe children and people died. He remembers those feeling and the dead, how could he even begin to forget _that?_ He looks at Skull again and sees the blankness in his gaze even as he still shows emotions so clearly on his face.

_"They threw us in the dungeon and we stayed there, listening to 'Mione's screams for what seemed like hours. And then, when they stopped, they brought in Ron. He was screaming. Screaming as they dragged him away, screaming as he saw what they did to 'Mione. He was in love with her, everyone knew it. He stopped screaming when they started in him though. Didn't make a sound."_

The Storm remembers that, remembers hearing people he cared about _scream_ but he could do nothing. That was when he found his Flames, come to think of it. That day his calm revealed a storm.

When the Cloud lifts his so very blank eyes to Reborn's and speaks in a soft tone of the very last link the man has to _family_ asking him to be a godfather to _his son_ , Fon closes his eyes and wishes he could cry. Instead he simply breathes and let's Skull's words wash through him. Then Yuni speaks, prodding gently what happened and he resists the urge to cover his ears. It's too late anyways.

_"I stepped over the bodies of my friends and faces I knew and people I had promised and I walked straight to my death. He lied, of course, but it didn't matter in the end. Turns out I was bloody immortal._

Fon remembers that too. The Traids were unforgiving so it wasn't uncommon that you stepped over the bodies of people you knew. It's why he left as soon as he could, became strong so no one could drag him back. So the Traids couldn't hold onto him anymore. And here is Skull, still looking so much like the boy he must have been, opening old wounds and bringing up memories that make his heart ache.

When the word ' _suicide'_ falls so naturally and without inflection from their Cloud's mouth, Fon half wishes he didn't know. He didn't contribute to Skull's abuse by Reborn and Colonello. He didn't order him around and put him down, but he didn't stop it either. He didn't say a word. He drank tea with him sometimes. In the early morning hours and in silence.

So the moment as Skull drops to the floor, Reborn is up and moving and he's not far behind.

* * *

Viper has always had a little black book dedicated to his fellow Arcobaleno. Blackmail is useful after all. It holds everything she knows about all of them. From the rumors and the whispers, to what they say themselves.

Reborn's book is the longest and least detailed, save for his appearance and his normal behavior.

Skull's? Skull's book was covered in writing for the first five pages before Viper just stopped. There was no reason to keep blackmail on someone you simply had to glare and order to do something for you.

Viper was severely regretting that right now as she listened in disbelief as Skull spoke of abuse, a teacher he killed, of adults he couldn't trust and for an instant, she was angry. Of course, this changed dramatically when the name, ' _Voldemort_ ' fell casually from his lips.

She flinched.

Viper couldn't help it.

The daughter of a noble and ancient family, one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, born to two purebloods…as a squib. Her blood, her pure blood, was _lacking_ and she remembers that one time before her 'family _'_ knew of her condition, that man brought the Dark Lord to his house. She had been fearless after meeting him. There couldn't be anything in this world that would scare her, save death, more than that man reeking of Dark Magic, of blood and darkness, filling the air with the smell of _death_.

Viper remembers when the Boy-Who-Lived survived _Avada Kedavra_ and she didn't have to run or hide anymore. She wept that night, that Halloween night, tears of relief and happiness. She remembers even better when _The Daily Prophet_ proclaimed Harry James Potter a "lying, attention seeking little brat" because he claimed Voldemort had come back to life, had killed Cedric Diggory and was going to start the Blood War all over again.

She changed her name to Viper and moved to muggle Paris, using her beautiful Mist Flames to hide all traces of her magic that appeared after her discovery of said Flames. Two years later when she heard Harry Potter had defeated the Dark Lord, this time _forever_ , she didn't cry. Rather she celebrated. She cast off her cowl and cloak, donned a dress, did her hair and went out.

Viper had the newspaper clippings from decades ago saying the Dark Lord was dead. She has both, actually. She knows perfectly well, if it wasn't for Potter, they would have come for her. And she would have died no matter how strong she got. Oh, sure, she would definitely take some with her, but she didn't want to die for such a stupid reason.

To hear _Skull_ , the _weakest_ Arcobaleno, actually _say the Dark Lord's name,_ without flinching, was almost humiliating. Until she began to understand what he was saying. What he was talking about.

Viper's eyes widened unseen under cloth as her mouth fell open in shock and horror with a tinge of awe.

_It couldn't be. It **can't** be. It's impossible._

Viper was mouthing denials in every language she could think of as she stared at Skull _DeMort._

_Godric Griffindor_

_Slytherin._

_Cedric._

_Remus._

_Bill. Fleur._

_'Mione, short for Hermione._

_Ron._

_Draco._

_Bellatrix._

_Sirius._

_Snape._

_Dumbledore._

_Death Eaters._

Proof. Undeniable proof.

So when Skull stood up and fall right back down, Viper was left sitting there as the rest of her Arcobaleno compatriots leapt up, straight to him. She couldn't understand how they could do that. Skull was- _Skull was…_

She couldn't finish that sentence.

* * *

Verde is a man of science. He doesn't believe in anything or anyone, not in heaven or hell, reincarnation or gods and goddesses. He believes, he has to when it's right in front of his face, in Flames. But he wants to know how they come about, so he studies them. And he studies other Flames and invents and learns things that make him happy or frustrated. But he's a scientist.

So when an arrogant child with dyed hair and colored contacts sits down at the table with other noteworthy people, including himself, and announces he is the 'Great Immortal Skull-sama, that even Death hates!' Verde resists the urge to kidnap him and study his Flames. Because obviously his Flames give him great durability and accelerates his healing to somewhere around days instead of weeks and months.

Before he gets his chance, Skull somehow gets a hold of a contract stating that Verde will never touch him or take samples for Flames or blood etc. etc., unless Skull gives his permission willingly, that is _miraculously_ signed and _sealed_ with _his_ signature and _his_ Flames. It is a very detailed contract. He is shocked when he tests the Flames and the hand writing because he really doesn't remember signing this at all.

So he just levels a glare at the child, ignoring the strangely solemn and formal 'my apologies' the Cloud murmured to him and stalks out, vowing to never touch said Cloud even if he were to beg.

Not even when Skull is bleeding and injured does Verde lift a finger. Not even when he finds him tucked away in a corner smelling strongly of metal and sticky sweetness. He may have a rivalry/hatred for Reborn, that arrogant hitman, but it's Skull that has his distain and condensation.

So when he realizes with a start that _Skull_ was a _soldier, a child soldier_ , he suddenly understands.

What he doesn't understand is the vague feeling of guilt creeping into his stomach.

No, actually he understands that, but he really doesn't want to think about it.

He doesn't think of those times that Skull was bleeding because of protecting him and as he walked away leaving him on the floor. He doesn't want to think about those times he send prototypes after the 'Immortal' Skull and waiting and watching in glee as the Cloud comes back every time as if nothing has happened.

Verde is a scientist. His morals are screwed and he knows that very well.

But he respects soldiers, because a soldier once showed him something he still treasures to this day. Verde makes prosthetics and weapons for soldiers. He makes armor and vests and better guns, better equipment and he does it for _soldiers._

Skull is a _child soldier._

_Skull is a **soldier.**_

Verde feels every single analysis, every single bit of data and research into Skull, just as suddenly as his words, become outdated. Flawed and incorrect. Useless and lies.

His entire perspective into Skull shifts and settles into place and _he understand now._

Purple armor, that is what his suit is. His gloved hands, the helmet he was rarely see without, the make-up so thickly layered and _Skull is a soldier._

Verde isn't one to offer information of his personal life, what very little there is and he would _never_ speak of his early years so there isn't anyone who knows his about his dedication to the care of soldiers, regardless of what country.

When Skull collapses, Verde has already run through every emotional and metal illness, every trauma-induced behavior, bodily reactions and times he's seen Skull anything but awake and he comes to a very grim conclusion.

So he doesn't complain when he's roped into helping with the Cloud. He doesn't complain as they drive back to their house. He doesn't say anything as they all exchange glances and understand that they can see what's under Skull's clothing.

Later, he'll wish he had complained. Later, when he feels guilty because Skull was a solider.

* * *

Lal Mirch is a solider. A very specific type of soldier, but still a soldier. It was her career, what she wanted to do, what she _choose._ It was her dream, where she fit in, where she _belonged._ It was natural and she _loved it._

Skull was a child. A boy, barely on the cusp of manhood and he claimed to be a _soldier._ Lal had to stop herself from shouting "Bull!" at the boy when he spoke those words.

She's seen lots of soldiers. Broken, shattered, young and old and everything in-between. She's never seen one like Skull. Well, she's seen something close to what Skull is, but he _cannot_ be a soldier at such a young age. They do not accept _children_ into the Armed Forces and he quite clearly spoke of 'relatives' and 'school' and other _normal_ people, so he couldn't have been from any country that did allow _children_ into the military.

His English is tinted with a British accent.

But then she sees Viper's reaction to the French name and she sees Reborn's _lack_ of reaction and that's always ten times worse and she understands it's something _they_ know about and they're _horrified._ She hasn't seen Viper show that much emotion since the Curse originally came on them. She sees Fon and that look on his face speaks of _understanding_ that tugs at her heart and the way Verde looks almost _guilty._ She doesn't look at Colonello, doesn't dare. Colonello is an all-time big brother figure and the Rain has over-protective, _violent_ tendencies. Skull isn't in the little brother category, but he's a fellow soldier and Colonello is _older_ and they were Rain and Cloud in the same set, under the same Sky, so she doesn't look at the blond soldier.

She's still not looking at him when Skull is on the ground and she's pressing a damp cloth to his flushed cheeks and she doesn't glance at him when they start to unzip his zippers to his jacket.

Soon, when they carefully pull it off and meaningful silence, heavy and weighted falls on them, she doesn't think to not look at him because she's too busy staring at _Skull's chest._ His _arms._ His gloves are off, her hands are steady as they wipe away make-up and peel the tape back to reveal even more scars.

So many scars, _everywhere._ From burns, knives, wire, _chains,_ and God only knows what else and Lal ignores the burning in her eyes and carefully peels off his undershirt, stifling a gasp at the ones littering over vital and fatal areas. They all clearly remember when their Cloud has shouted so obnoxiously, in that stupid high-pitched voice, "the Immortal Skull-sama that even Death hates!".

These scars are of torture and frenzied dashes through barbed wire and holes and slices and Lal feels sick.

Skull may be immortal and he may heal from everything, but the scars remain, telling a story far more detailed than that basic outline he spat out drunkenly at the bar. Colonello's hands reach under his body, lifting it was just a little too much ease and Lal hears his footsteps towards Skull's room. She's still crouched on the floor and still _not looking at Colonello._

* * *

He wonders if his hands are shaking. It feels like they're shaking, but as he discreetly glances down, barely glimpsing them in the darkened light of the bar, he sees they're perfectly still. They do not shake even as Skull continues with his word vomit. He doesn't flinch, he knows nothing is showing on his face, he is aware of the fact that Lal isn't looking at him. He concentrating on breathing and listening and it takes everything in his words to stay still, keep still because Skull is still speaking.

He hears what the Cloud is saying, he understands his words but he can't grasp it because it's so impossible that Skull is a soldier. He can't be. Soldier have reflexes and shadows in their eyes, pride in their weapons and some are so broken, but he can read them all because he's a soldier too. Some are missing limbs and pieces of their sanity and other have destructive cooping methods and-

He take a breath and tried not to kill someone.

He can hear what Skull isn't saying and he sees the subtle sarcasm against this 'Dumbledore' and he _understands._

Raised in an abusive household, taken to a better place where his is famous and everyone want to shake his hand and then told what his parents died for wasn't enough. Told he must die to save those who care about him for the first time in his life and he can see the manipulations so clearly. A part of him remembers to they Skull always caught something they threw at him. Remembers how he never dodged kicks or punches, just shots and knives and how he claimed he had a fear of trees.

When Skull is laying so still and Lal is there, still not looking at him, Colonello knows even though a part of him is numb, he must be radiating the anger and the hatred. When Skull is curled up so small and vulnerable in the car and Lal still won't look at him, he knows the numbness is fading. When they're taking off his clothes and he _sees the scars_ , he goes to pick him up and she won't _look_ at him and he can't look at her for fear of what he'll see on her face.

When he walks back out, an hour later, after Skull's throw up and he's forced him to drink water and listened to the cries for the dead and screams for someone to _stop, please stop, not her, I'm the one he wants, just please!_ Lal finally looks at him.

There's no condemnation, no accusation or blame in her eyes, and he thinks that's okay because there's enough in his to balance his anger so he doesn't go out and beat someone to death. And so he sits at the table, and wonders how he could have been so blind, so stupid and how _none_ of them _ever_ saw this before.

He doesn't have an answer.

Then again, neither does anyone else.

* * *

Yuni saw Skull for what he was when she first met him. Someone broken and tired and trying desperately to pretend he was as he acted. Care-free, a little stupid, but a little but more than weak when he needed to be. He understood why he pretended to be weak. She understood so very well because before her mother died she pretended to be weak too.

It's so no one asks them to defend others, to protect them. No one asks them to lead the charge or fight the good fight. No one asks them for help, for advice and no one blames them for their mistakes 'cause it's _expected._

Then all of a sudden, Yuni had to be strong, be brave, lead the others and carry their lives on her shoulders. She had to decided to follow through even if people she cared about died for the good of the whole Earth. She had to accept death and she couldn't be a child, she couldn't be weak. She had to support those that should have been supporting her and lead those that should have been leading her.

She saw that mark clearly on Skull.

She never made fun of him or called him names. She was kind to him and smiled when she felt he was sad and sat next to him in silence when she wanted to rest. Still, he never came to her when he needed someone. He simply pretended he needed no one at all. Her heart ached because she could not betray the fragile trust he had in her by revealing his closely guarded secrets.

That is, until the curse was broken and there was nothing to stop him from leaving, from breaking and shattering. It was so very easy to slip some _Veritaserum_ into Skull's drink and have everyone ask questions of each other. She didn't know his secrets were so deep or so bloody. She had no idea Skull DeMort was once called Harry Potter. She was almost ashamed of herself.

Right up until the moment when all the Arcobaleno, save Skull, gathered at the table like they did so long ago in another life and she saw they understood too.

_Finally._


End file.
